


Decision of Alliance

by rareformofwolfsbane



Series: 'Do not forget a small piece.' [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mage Rebellion, Templar’s VS Mages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 22:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20664563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rareformofwolfsbane/pseuds/rareformofwolfsbane
Summary: “How do we know the side we pick is the right one?” he looked to Cullen. “Every time I think I know the answer, I remember all of the reasons why it’d be a bad idea. What if it’s wrong?”





	Decision of Alliance

**Author's Note:**

> Forever sitting on a pile of wip Dragon Age fic. Next will be two fics, obviously following either side of the alliance.

* * *

** _The entries in this book are written in several different hands and occasionally even different languages, though most entries have been burned away, as though the book was held in hands of fire. There are few passages in the common tongue, but they’re half ineligible._ **

— ..plar’s saved us! The mages have g... -ane! Power hu..-ry. Pure luck a Templar arrived ...-id. I thought we were dead for su-

— .. they were barely a child. Poor thing just wan- ... lar’s eyes were red. Unhinged. The mage hadn’t even raised a hand before they were cut down. 

— Maker ..lp us.

* * *

Alexius was a desperate man. There was the beginnings of dark circles shadowing his eyes, an almost manic edge to his smile though his body posture remained civil and pleasant in the face of his ‘guests’. Lavellan eyed him warily but kept a vacant smile. A desperate man was a dangerous one.

Lavellan curled his fingers as the mark fizzled, reacting to both his emotions and the charged atmosphere- a simple posturing between mages, though; there was the feel of something other. _Darker_.

“You’re a long way from Tevinter, Alexius.”

For a brief moment, a shadow passed over the mans face before he waved them over towards an empty table.

“Indeed.”

* * *

_“Come to the Chantry. You are in danger.”_

Lavellan eyed the large, weather-worn doors to the Chantry, listening with half an ear as Cassandra and Varric still continued to bicker over whether it was a trap or not. Under different circumstances, Lavellan would have conceded to Cassandra’s warnings, but the significant look Felix had shared with him was too exhausted to not take it as a genuine warning of help.

What would make a son go against his father behind his back?

They pushed the heavy doors open and the rift inside exploded with a crackle of green.

“Ah good, you’re finally here,” Amongst the swarming demons, lightning crackled as a well dressed man swung his staff in a wide arch, the sharp edge of the acolytes blade catching a Shade in the chest before he sidestepped and stabbed another. Once he had breathing room, he turned towards the party with a smirk, the lighting and the shadows falling attractively across his handsome face as he gestured towards the rift. “Help me with this, would you?”

Lavellan swallowed against a suddenly dry throat, the pole of his staff fizzling with fire as the fade spat out tendrils of green veil.

* * *

The meeting with Dorian and Felix left Lavellan slightly on uneven footing, with the party divided on their opinions of the ‘Vints involvement, Lavellan’s obviously smitten demeanour, and the horrifying knowledge that Time Travel is _a thing_.

Lavellan insisted they travel to the Black Emporium to enquire with Xenon if he had any tomes on Time Travel, but unfortunately the merchant spoke in a roundabout way of a time the Herald asked the same thing not two weeks ago, and will probably ask again in another four because time has already been altered and the books unfortunately destroyed.

Xenon cackled as Lavellan pinched the bridge of his nose in confused frustration. A vague sense of déjà Vu came over him of this very same scenario playing out. A literal pocket of time in a loop. 

_Maker and Creators_.

In Haven, Lavellan fiddled with the marker that will check his final decision of whom to align with, rolling it between his hands as he weighed the pros and cons of both parties.

As a mage himself, who has attended the Circle and lived with the Dalish, Lavellan understood the dangers should a mage practise magic unchecked - you needed a guiding hand, someone to pull you back should temptation and power drag you deep into its clutches. But he’s not agreeing entirely with the Templars argument either.

It’s not magic you should fear, it’s a persons morality.

Lavellan brought his hands up to his face, marker caught in the crook of his left thumb, the smooth edge digging lightly into his cheek as his fingers massaged his temples and forehead.

Templar’s, whilst widely trusted and with good reason, they themselves can be corrupt by power. He and countless others have seen first hand what they can do; and now that red lyrium is freely distributed to those that are desperate, coerced or seeking that raw destructible source- should the inquisition be placing that trust in the Order?

The door to the War room swung open with a rusty squeak, but Lavellan was too exhausted to react anymore than a twitch of his shoulders. There was a sharp inhale of a breath, a quiet hum that sounded apologetic.

“Forgive me, Herald, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“The room is just as much as yours as it is mine to borrow. Please, come sit.”

Cullen closed the door quietly behind him and strode toward the table with purpose, depositing a mission report on a pile that was steadily growing, eyes flicking briefly over the map, taking in the completed assignments, the jobs in progress and those that are still waiting directive. No new markers had been added and Cullen considered the game changer in Lavellan’s hand as he made himself comfortable in the rickety chair.

“Are you alright?”

Lavellan considered the question.

“How do we know the side we pick is the right one?” His voiced was muffled, fingers pressed into his lips and chin (a nervous gesture), as he looked to Cullen. “Every time I think I know the answer, I remember all of the reasons why it’d be a bad idea. So much is riding on this decision, but what if it’s wrong?”

Cullen sighed. “I’ve no doubt there will be conflict over whom we choose to align with..” He leant forward, gently plucking the marker from loose fingers and set it aside. “You know where I stand in the matter, but regardless of the alliance, we have preparations and will handle it. You have my word, Herald.”

* * *


End file.
